


The New Testament

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fallen Angels, M/M, Rough Sex, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter 5:8 - "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."</p><p>Steve Rogers, Captain of New York's Legion of Angels, has risen from his temporary death during the Second Heavenly War. He's been a menace to the state's previously dominant demon population ever since, Tony Stark included. Then First Lieutenant James "Bucky" Barnes falls from grace and goes missing. Steve is desperate to find him... even if it means cutting a deal with Tony, despite the possible price of falling himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in ages, gosh. This is a short, starting piece to get myself back in gear. The following chapters will be longer. Also, it's a feeler for interest to see if the storyline isn't a complete piece of crap, haha. Hope you like it either way!

If the fates had enough social graces to warn him that Steve-fucking-Rogers (illustrious Captain of New York's angel army himself) would be walking through his office door today, Tony would have worn a tie. Or at the very least not have his pants around his ankles.

Alas, the past is past. The angel was already here, having stridden purposefully past his assistant Natasha's desk, and with a cursory knock on the door frame had let himself in. Natasha quickly moved to stand behind him, her slitted, snake-like irises focused on the intruder, angel dagger ready to slice as she twirled it between her fingers. Now, while he appreciated Natasha's ready-to-kill attitude in most situations, he wasn't stupid enough to think initiating a brawl with one of heaven's finest would end well... for his office or their currently intact, spiritual bodies. So, time to initially play nice. With a small shake of his head Natasha stood down, sheathing her blade, but leaving her palm resting not-so-subtly on the hilt. Tony comforted himself with the thought that while Steve would never stab an enemy in the back, Natasha had no such scruples. Thank Lucifer for small demon advantages. 

"Rogers," He tangled his fingers into the hair of the human employee kneeling at his feet and pulled her off, his still hard penis slipping out of her mouth with a wet sound. "If you call ahead next visit I'll make sure my dick's dressed when you walk in." As Tony tucked himself back into his pants, a red flush rose up Rogers' neck to his cheeks. The demon felt a surge of sadistic pleasure. Ah, virginal as always. The Captain was still so much fun. 

"Sorry, I..." Steve tucked his wings, realizing he'd flapped them in embarrassment, feathered white with blue tips. Tony remained seated behind his massive, wooden desk as the young girl rose from her knees and moved to slip out the door. Steve frowned at the human when she passed, clearly disapproving as he continued, "I'd like to speak with you, Stark." Blue eyes glanced towards Natasha, "Alone."

"Well, aren't you bossy?" Tony leaned forward, steeping his fingers together. "You barged into my office. Unannounced, I might add." Steve had the angelic grace to look guilty. "And now you want me, a demon, to talk to you alone when you make a business of smiting my kind on a daily basis. Forgive me if I refuse."

"I told you this was a bad idea." Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers' right-hand man appeared suddenly behind Natasha. She moved, the tip of the angel dagger pricking his throat in a quick blur. He held up both hands in an placating gesture. "Whoah, whoah. Let's all calm down. I'm just here to pick up Captain of Bad Ideas over there." He waved Rogers over. "C'mon, Steve. This guy can't help you." 

Tony's interest was piqued. Steve Rogers came here for his help? Well. This was moving in a more pleasant, highly profitably direction. 

Steve strode purposefully closer and Tony had to will himself to remain seated despite the approaching threat. The angel came to a stop in front of his desk, expression fighting to remain impassive. But Tony saw the flickers of emotion in the angel's eyes, open and raw, barely contained. This was completely out of character for Captain Steve Rogers. This meant that whatever had pushed the angel far enough to visit had the potential to gift him the most propitious day of his century. Captain Steve Rogers was emotionally compromised, in his office, and Tony already knew his next words would be. 

"I'd like to make a deal."

"Steve!"

"Rogers." Tony ignored Wilson, carefully concealing his delight and slipping on an expression of "I'm willing and open to listen with no ulterior motives". Which was complete and utter bullshit and anyone could see that a mile away, but at least there was an attempt. "What could -I- possibly offer that one of heaven's darlings can't get himself?"

"Howard said-"

"The old man..." Tony cut him off, mood immediately soured. "Well, name dropping the family's favorite defector doesn't really help your cause. Try again."

Steve looked taken aback. He recovered, holding Tony's gaze, eyes resolute as he asked, "I need to find somebody."

"Somebody? I'll need a little more to go on than that."

"Steve." Sam cut in again, warningly.

"James Buchanan Barnes."

Tony paused. "First Lieutenant of the New York Heavenly Army?" He waved a hand, feigning ignorance. He'd heard whispers of the name while mingling with demon high society recently, and he'd put two and two together in regards to Barnes' fate. "Can't you angels find each other with love rays and friendship feelings?"

Steve's wings flared, usually a threat of attack among their kind, and Tony moved to his feet, his own scaled appendages spreading to full span. The red scales shone gold as they blocked the window. At the corner of his eye Natasha and Sam had stepped apart, hands on their weapons. Calming himself, Steve bit out, "Sorry. Not really in the mood for jokes. Stand down, Sam." Then to Tony. "That's not an option."

"Get whatever you want to say out, Rogers. Or get your ass out of my office. I don't have time for your cryptic, angel bullshit."

"Bucky..." Tony crossed his arms as Steve continued to be utterly useless at getting him information. "I mean, First Lieutenant Barnes."

"He's fallen." Sam cut in, resigned that his superior wasn't going to leave. "He's no longer an angel. We don't know what happened and we can't find him since he's off radar."

"But you can." Steve stated the obvious.

"Yes. I -could-." Tony paused, testing their boundaries as he raised a hand, placing the tips of calloused fingers on Steve's feathers, taking one and rubbing at the blue tip. The angel stilled but didn't react otherwise. Poor creature. He’d heard whispers about Rogers and Barnes. "But will I?"

"I'm willing to make a deal."

"Steve!"

"Expand your vocabulary, Wilson." The demon held Rogers' gaze, agreeable now that all the cards were on his table. All he had to do was decide which hand to play. "Always Steve, Steve, Steve. You think he only knows that one word? Now, if you'll get rid of your little friend, I'll send Natasha on her way and we can hash out the details in private."

"Details?" 

Oh, that reluctant, worried expression was delicious on Steve's face. Tony smiled, all teeth and hunger. "The details of your contract, darling."

The best day of his millennium indeed.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam remembers and Steve makes a deal with a devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set up so each character starts with a flashback, followed by them in the present. Just a heads up so you don't get confused! They'll be labeled correctly. Tony comes off super douchey in this chapter (he's a demon after all) but I promise any Stony lovers that their relationship will eventually even out into something resembling healthy at the very least. Not for a good, long while though. It's gonna be a rough ride for the two of them, so tread with care.

Lore, Chronicles 17:

The First Heavenly War ended with angels triumphant. Michael led the heavenly hosts to cast Lucifer from heaven for the crime of inciting fellow angels into rebellion. However, God was ever merciful and refused to destroy the fallen. Instead, he cursed them as demons and created Hell. From then on the demons lived away from his beloved angels and humans. All was peaceful on earth, and God left to tend to other worlds.

During his absence, another hell spawn rose to prominence. The Red Skulled Demon's powers mirrored Lucifer's in strength. He and his followers saw demons as superior to all God’s creatures, and sought to rule all of Heaven, Earth, and Hell. Human and angelic armies fell before him.

The demon's armies tore human cities asunder in their quest for dominance. In one such place, a young man held demons at bay with a courage that rivaled angels. He sacrificed himself to ensure his people escaped the demon’s wrath. Upon arrival to Heaven, the young man's soul was so pure, so powerful with righteousness and love for fellow man that he was elevated from human soul to angelic being.

Leading the charge against the Red Skulled Demon, the human turned angel known as America led his regiment in many successful battles. Finally, on the continent that would be named after him in honor, America and the Red Skulled Demon battled to keep the hellspawn from overrunning heaven. The ferocity of their fight tore the land asunder, grand canyons forming as the battle continued for seven days and seven nights. 

Finally, America struck a final blow, destroying the Red Skulled Demon and casting his essence to the deepest bowels of hell. The battle, however, had taken its toll. America’s being shattered, and humans and angels wept as he disappeared in a glorious wave of light. His essence was carefully returned to heaven to be protected until he gained strength enough to manifest once again.

Thus ended the Second Heavenly War.

 

Sam Wilson - 10 MONTHS AGO

Dying sucked. 

Sam Wilson counted his blessings. It could have MUCH been worse. Shot down in Afghanistan, the pain had been quick. The enemy mortar tore through his chest as he flew through the air, his enemy was a good shot, and he remembered his brothers-in-arms yelling his name... after that, nothing. Then there it was. The proverbial pillar of light, sucking him out of earth and tossing him pretty unceremoniously into heaven.

Now he waited, number 943 in line for placement into his own personal slice of afterlife. The "Arrivals Office" (where he’d been stuck for the past two days) was reserved for the newly dead. The kind angel woman that served snacks earlier had explained to him that after this office, souls were allowed to meet in the communal areas and in the personal, private spaces of heaven (if they were invited) that other spirits called home. But if he wanted, she gently pointed out, he could stay alone in his own piece of heaven for as long as he needed. Personally, Sam just wanted out of the white washed waiting room. It reminded him too much of hospitals. 

He glanced over at the middle-aged man who’d just taken a seat next to him. Might as well strike conversation to pass the time. "So. How'd you end up here?"

"Heart attack. I was 96, so I guess it was about time." The man held out a hand, "David."

"Sam. You look pretty good for somebody almost hitting a hundred."

David grinned, "I hear you end up looking the age you were happiest while alive."

"Well, damn. Should have been happier at 21 then."

"Nobody's happy at 21. Everything's legal."

"Okay, okay. We’ve got a bad boy over here. You sure you’re in the right place?” 

They shared easy laughter, swapping stories until an angel approached and coughed behind a fist to catch their attention.

"Sam Wilson?"

"That's me." Sam stood and shook the angel's hand. "Am I up? Thought I'd have to wait another week or two."

"With that number? You're off by a month or three." An easy grin and twinkling blue eyes. "First Lieutenant Buchanan. I've got somebody who wants to meet you."

Waving goodbye to David and promising to meet up at a later date, Sam followed as Buchanan led him down a hallway… that opened up to a field of sunflowers. If that wasn’t strange enough, they continued down a path that led seemingly led into a thick forest. Instead, Sam blinked and he found himself in an impressively large office. A massive oak desk dominated most of the space, carefully stacked folders covering most of it, and Sam took note of another angel standing behind the piece of furniture with his back towards him. Sam could see a blonde head between blue-tipped, white wings.

"Steve. Here's the guy you were looking for."

"Thanks, Bucky." The angel behind the desk turned, expression welcoming. "Please, Sam, take a seat."

Steve Rogers, also known as the angel America, the man soldiers like him prayed to for luck before a fight... Sam liked to think he was pretty good with words. This time, he only manage two, "Holy fuck."

"Excuse me?" Rogers blinked.

"Uh. Sorry! Didn't mean to offend... it's just. Wow. Uh. It’s you." This was not going well. At all. Sam held up a finger. “Give me a moment, okay? You can’t just show up without some kind of warning first.”

Buchanan burst out laughing, the sound warm and smooth. He moved around the table and slipped an arm around Steve, pulling him close and earning a chiding, sideways glance. "Look at you, Stevie. Rending people speechless. The Justin Bieber of angelic hosts."

"Beaver?" Rogers looked confused, but quickly decided Sam was more important at the moment than an explanation on cultural references. Turning to the human soul he continued, "Sam. The reason you're here is your file came to my desk this morning as the only human soul in centuries… who possesses the necessary qualities to be raised."

"Raised?" Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"Your soul has the potential to be raised as an angel.” So, he wasn’t hearing things. Sam could only stand there, mute, as Rogers continued kindly. “We'd like to offer you that opportunity if you'll take it."

"Okay... wait." Sam rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm a little lost here... sorry, Captain Rogers.” At Steve's reassuring smile, he continued, "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why would you even want me as an angel when you’ve got so many up here already? That's something I'd like to know before I sign my afterlife away."

Buchanan pulled away from Rogers and picked up Sam's file, "You know Stevie over here just came back from a several thousand year coma, right?"

"I’ve heard rumors." Sam started carefully. "Nobody's seen him on earth so it was all hearsay."

"Well, he's here." Buchanan tapped the folder against the corner of his mouth, brown mottled wings stretching a bit as he moved towards the human soul. "And he's putting together a personal regiment."

"I'm replacing Coulson as Captain of New York's Legion." Steve held his gaze and Sam couldn't remember seeing anything so blue in his life. "And I'd like you and Bucky by my side. This idiot's a good friend and even better fighter but," Buchanan made a noise of protest, "He's been an angel as long as I have. I've been out of the loop, and I'm looking for somebody who can work with me on connecting with the humans. This morning I got your file on my desk. You’re the perfect candidate."

"He said it was fate." Buchanan huffed, his teasing tone making it apparent what he thought of Steve's romanticism. "I say it's less fate and more Coulson looking out as usual." 

Rogers ignored him, "God had a hand in choosing you. I know it." 

Sam wanted to point out nobody had heard from God in centuries… but he couldn't bring himself to shoot down the look of eagerness, hope, and damn was Captain America really asking him to partner up because the answer was, "Hell yeah, I'll do it."

... seriously, Wilson. Hell yeah? Sam mentally punched himself. If Steve noticed his poor choice of words he ignored it, moving around the table to clasp his hand.

"Fantastic. Let's get you ready."

 

Sam Wilson - PRESENT

"Worst. Idea. Ever."

Sam glared at the shut door and contemplated breaking it down, knocking Steve out, then dragging his Captain back to heaven where Coulson could possibly talk some sense into him. Which, unfortunately, wasn't possible with Steve being one of the most powerful angels in heaven. The redheaded demon next to him tilted her head, a sharp smile playing on even redder lips, "Tony is so going to eat him alive."

"Over my dead body..." Sam muttered. Having already died, that wasn't possible. Just like letting Steve get snacked on by the Stark demon was so NOT happening on his watch.

"Sam Wilson, right?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Natasha." The demon "Natasha" strode away from the door with a sashay of hips, settling herself behind her desk and typing away. "You might want to sit. Writing up a contract will take them awhile."

Sam groaned and slouched into the nearest chair. Good sense was telling him to hightail it straight into Director Fury's office. Forget Coulson. As the man in charge of the United States SHIELD Army, Fury would definitely take issue with their poster boy dealing with the Stark demon. The problem would be dealt with pretty quick... but Sam knew Steve. Knew he'd stop at nothing to get Buchanan back, even if it meant going against Fury's orders. What Rogers lacked in self-preservation he made up in loyalty. Sam knew, that if he was in the same boat as Buchanan, that his Captain would do the exact same thing he was doing now. Nothing would stop him. It was a comforting thought… so Sam remained where he was and grumbled/complained/groused under his breath for a good half hour until his communicator started to beep. It was a good interruption. Natasha looked ready to cut his tongue out to shut him up.

Pulling the communicator out of his pocket and realizing who was calling him, Sam blinked, wiped a hand down his face and took a deep breath before answering, "Second Lieutenant Wilson."

"Where the FUCK are you and Rogers?"

"Uh. Coffee break?"

"Bullshit!" Director Fury sounded ready to reach through the communicator and strangle him. "I've got reliable reports you're in the demon Tony Stark's office. Get Rogers' ass out of there and into my office STAT."

"Yes, sir…"

"By STAT, I mean last week, Wilson. You're already late." A loud click and Fury was off the line.

Sam looked down at the communicator, up to the office door, and back down to the communicator. Then muttering under his breath, "Worst. Idea. Ever," he turned it off. He worked for SHIELD, but he was loyal to Steve. Rogers owed him. BIG TIME.

… maybe if Fury asked he could say his battery died?

As if reading his mind Natasha piped up, "Those things don't run on batteries, do they?" 

"Nope…"

"It's not too late to fall and join us."

 

Steve Rogers - THREE WEEKS AGO

Captain America was an angel of habit. Every morning, 5 AM sharp, he was up and training in Heaven’s communal sparring grounds. The room's designers had been old fashioned, fashioning it from references of the Roman coliseum, albeit scaled up in size to fit multiple angel regiments at a time. Officers had their own private area, but Steve enjoyed watching his subordinates train. He gave advice when he noticed bad form and shared war stories when prodded. It was good for morale. Steve tucked his wings tight against his back and began to practice forward thrusts of his sword, following it with a series of shield bashes. Repetition was key to keeping his muscles toned and reactions ready, but the practice shield and sword were of a heavier weight than his normal weapons. By the time Buchanan arrived to spar (another daily ritual), Steve had a light sheen of sweat on his skin.

"You're late." Steve accused, but his tone was playful and he couldn't hide the grin his friend always managed to pull from his lips. 

"Always am." Buchanan shrugged as he sauntered over, strapping daggers to his arms and legs. "Let's get this over with so I can get back in bed."

"No can do. Meeting with Fury at 8 am." Steve barely had time to block a series of daggers thrown his way. Sheathing his sword and setting aside his shield, he took a defensive stance. Fighting against Bucky's unconventional way of attack meant no weapons, swift movement, and quick fists.

"Ugh. Stevie, do I have to go?" In a quick blur Bucky was on him, daggers cutting so fast they left high-pitched whistles in the air. One of the blades sliced his cheek. Steve ducked, dodged, and caught one of Bucky's fists and pushed his friend back with several punches to the stomach. Gasping for breath Bucky slid back, falling on one knee. He stayed low on the ground. 

“Hey… you okay?” Steve faltered, worried, an apology hanging from his lips… only to realize his mistake when Buchanan smirked and launched forward. In less than a second he was pressed up against a wall with a dagger to his neck. This close he could feel Bucky's breath ghosting over his cheek, blue eyes catching his as they stared each other down. His friend was using his hip to hold Steve in place, pushing against his stomach to pin him against the wall. They remained that way a long moment. He should move, Steve thought to himself, cadets were watching. But there was something about Bucky in that moment that made him still. 

It was that look again. An expression he’d been catching on his friend’s face the last couple of weeks when they were alone... heavy with an emotion that Steve couldn’t seem to place. This was the first time he'd seen it in public. Something in his chest reacted, another equally unfamiliar feeling he didn’t understand. Realizing they had an audience (several cadets had stopped to watch) he reacted the same way he did the last couple of times Bucky had acted strangely: he chose to ignore it. 

"Fight fair." Steve complained, forcing a laugh as he shoved Bucky off him. The tension disappeared quickly with the break of contact.

"Demons never fight fair.” Bucky bit out. “Your chivalry is outdated and going to get you stabbed in the back." Sheathing his daggers Bucky stalked off, and something in the way he held himself made Steve realize he was angry. 

"Bucky, wait." Steve was ignored. Chasing after his friend, it was obvious that Buchanan was trying to get away from him, practically run-walking from Steve and attempting to slam his door in his face when they reached their rooms. 

"What's wrong with you?!"

"Just leave me alone, Steve."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." Taking advantage of his dominant strength, Steve pushed himself into the room, slamming the door behind him. "You've been acting strange for weeks, Buck."

"Playing innocent? You know what's wrong, Rogers." Steve’s brows knitted together, hurt at the formal way his friend referred to him. Bucky was growing cold, distant, arms crossed in a physical act of shutting him out. Now that Steve got him started, Bucky let his thoughts out in one, angry flow. "You know damn well what's wrong... but you're such a -good- angel you're ignoring it. And... damn it-!" Bucky ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I should be ignoring it too. I've tried. God, I've tried. But I can't. Not anymore."

"Bucky..?"

"I'm going to ask for a transfer tomorrow. This just isn't working for me."

Steve's chest grew cold, the chill running up his neck, his face, and his hands shook as he clenched them into angry, stubborn fists. "No."

"Excuse me?" Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"You heard me." Steve closed the distance between them. Bucky had been the first angel to train him when he’d been seen as an anomaly, a former human, shunned by other angels and seen as inferior. Bucky was the first angel to be his friend. The others had flocked to him when he proved himself on the battlefield... but it was Bucky, always Bucky, who was that constant, reassuring presence at his side from the start. When he'd been momentarily destroyed by his battle with the Red Skulled Demon, that last thing he'd seen was Buchanan reaching for him, desperate… but he’d been overwhelmed by a blinding light just as his friend's fingers were inches away. After being gone for over two millenniums, finally reunited, NOW his friend wanted to push him away? He wouldn't have it. In this modern world that was still alien to him, he couldn't let his friend go. He couldn’t lose the only familiar, loved creature left to him. It was uncharacteristically selfish... but he couldn't help himself. Something about Bucky made him irrational. Strange emotions pulled at his chest, and it must have shown clearly on his expression because the defensiveness faded from Bucky's stance.

"Stevie..." 

"You can't leave me, Buck. Not now."

"I know. Shhh..." Bucky soothed. Steve didn't move when his friend's hand cupped his cheek. "I'm with you till the end of the line..."

Then he was being kissed. Fierce, desperate, clumsy... Bucky's lips were chapped, rough as they pressed against his. Letting out a small noise of surprise, Steve held on to Bucky's shoulders for purchase as he was pushed back into the wall. "Wait. Wha-" And Bucky took that opportunity to slip his tongue past Steve's lips, tasting his mouth, making soft, pleased noises as he grabbed Steve's hips hard enough to bruise and pulled them both flush against each other. 

Steve felt a wave of heat wash over him. Almost feverish, it burned brighter, hotter when Bucky sucked on his tongue, only to break the kiss to ghost his lips down Steve's jawline to mouth at his neck. Their harsh breaths were the only sounds in the room, desperate half-gasps. Steve threw his head back and tangled his fingers in Bucky's hair, pulling hard and earning a pleased, muffled moan against skin. 

Angel soldiers took a vow of celibacy upon assignment. Steve, ever the perfect soldier, had felt attracted to his friend and others in the past but he’d brushed these thoughts and urges aside. He couldn't be compromised when he had men to lead, and breaking the vow meant serious repercussions... but in this room. In this moment with Bucky, his resolve was torn down by his friend’s eager mouth. Every credible thought he had vanished when Bucky moved a hand down Steve's waist, stroking at his erection through the fabric of his pants. It was too fast, too soon... tightening his grip on his friend's shoulders, Steve pushed Bucky away. "Wait, Buck, please..."

Steve's chest constricted at the terrified look that settled on Bucky's face. "Oh, God. Steve. I'm so sorry. Can we just pretend this-" Steve shut him up with a kiss. "I don't under-" Another kiss, and Bucky settled down enough to simply stare at Steve, expression uncertain.

"Bucky. Look. I need time. Just let me get my thoughts together..."

"Bad idea. You're gonna run away."

"Since when have I run away from a fight?"

And there it was, the affectionate grin Steve was looking for, finally settling on Bucky's face. "Didn't realize we were fighting."

They stood there, and Steve quickly accepted that for better or worse, things between them had changed. Bucky's hands moved to rest on Steve’s hips again, pressing his thumbs down against the bones that jutted out. "I want you to know-"

The communicator beeped, loud and insistently ruining the moment between them.

Steve groaned, "The meeting..."

"Go on then, poster boy." Steve tried to hide his relief as Bucky turned him around and pushed him towards the door, grateful for the chance to think things over. "Might want to tuck in that erection though."

"Damn..." Adjusting himself Steve moved towards the door, pausing to ask. "Do I look okay?"

"If by okay you mean ravished? Sure." Steve turned several shades of red and Bucky laughed, laced with easy affection, the sound making Steve’s heart skip. "Hurry back, got it? We need to talk."

As the door shut behind him, the last thing Steve saw was Bucky's face, his friend's expression speaking louder than the words he couldn't bring himself to say. That was the last time he saw his friend. 

When Steve returned that afternoon, Bucky was gone. The file that arrived on his desk the next morning was stamped "FALLEN" in angry red ink.

 

Steve Rogers - PRESENT

Steve quickly learned that "personal space" was a foreign concept to Tony Stark.

The demon was pressed against his side, having dug out a piece of parchment that shimmered black in the light. Cursed paper, Steve noted. Once he signed the contract, he would be spiritually bound to follow its clauses until Tony himself burnt or tore it apart. The whole situation was reckless, a flaw that was out of character for him, and common sense was telling him to leave... and he would have, if he wasn’t forced to admit Tony was his last chance at finding Bucky. 

Fury and Coulson had balked when he'd asked to be assigned to a mission tasked with finding his friend. Upon finding out Steve had even requested the assignment, high ranking angel Alexander Pierce had firmly explained that the case was closed. Buchanan had defected. No measures would be taken towards recovering him. Secretly, Steve had spent the last couple of weeks following every possible lead, only to hit dead-end after dead-end. It was like Bucky had simply ceased to exist. Bucky’s file provided no details, no reason for defecting. For an angel officer to simply disappear… it was impossible without inside help.

Aside from Sam, Peggy, and Howard Stark, who were in the dark as he was, Steve didn't know who to trust. Then Howard had suggested, "Tony. My son. He'll help you."

"A demon?" Steve was confused. "Why would he help?"

"Demons are your only, untapped resource left." Howard turned to look out the window of his office. "And you're my dear friend Steve. My son hates me. That's the only reason he'll need."

Steve was drawn back into the present by Tony’s incessant chatter, "Now, I'm not going to ask for your angelic soul to be forever bound to me or anything Hollywood like that.” Tony rolled his eyes at the thought. “But if I'm going to get my hands dirtier than usual for you, I'll need something in return."

"I won't hurt other angels. Or humans."

"Reasonable." Tony waved a hand and golden letters began to appear on the contract.

Steve continued, "And I won't release sensitive intel or be forced to fall from grace."

With another irritated wave of his hand Tony glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "What -WILL- you do for me, Rogers. Because right now this is a whole lot of can't."

"Do you even know where Bucky is?" Steve caught the demon’s gaze and held it, trying to read Stark’s intentions. As an angel, he was out of his element… being guided from long-held virtues into the more unknown, gray areas of compromise with a demon. He had to make sure Tony wasn’t playing him. The end game had to be Bucky if he was going to negotiate his morality with Stark. Anything was worth it for Bucky…

"Well, nope." Tony continued, "But I know who somebody who has that information."

At Rogers' doubtful look the demon let out an annoyed huff of breath and tapped on the parchment, "Look. It says right here that the contract will only be honored if I know I can deliver. If you sign it and I'm lying? It won't work."

"So our deal completely relies on us being able to provide something the other needs?"

"Yes. Exactly. Glad to see you're not all muscles and no brains. Now..." Tony hiked himself up to sit on the desk. "Let's get on with what -I- want."

Steve’s trepidation must have shown on his face because the demon soothed, "Don't mope, sweetheart. I’m not asking for much." Tony banged his heels against the desk. The sound made Steve's shoulders stiffen, so the demon kept it up. "I just want one, simple, easy thing really…" 

Tony reached out, grasping Steve's chin and running a calloused thumb along the angel's lower lip, misleadingly gentle. Then narrowing heavy, brown eyes, Tony pressed his thumb down hard, harder… not stopping until he cut the soft skin of the angel’s mouth on teeth. Almost playfully, Tony coated his fingers with blood and painted the angel's lips red. Steve never moved, refusing to give Tony the satisfaction of a response. 

The corners of Tony's mouth turned up and he licked the remaining blood off his fingertips. "I want you, of course, and everything you have to offer with your stupid, simple rules aside. I want all of you." The demon grabbed the collar of Steve's uniform and yanked him down, bringing their faces so close his words were warm breaths against the angel's lips. "I won't hurt anyone else. I won't torture anyone else. Just you. And once we find your little friend I'll let you go. Worse for wear, naturally. I do plan on getting my money’s worth."

Steve glanced down as the words wrote themselves on the contract, fighting against every instinct to draw his sword and cut Tony down where he stood. To destroy the depraved, hateful creature... he'd be doing the world a favor. 

"Is he worth it, Rogers?"

"Yes." Tugging a feather free from his left wing, the angel placed it on the contract. "He is." It sank into the parchment and with a pleased, predatory expression on his face; Tony did the same with a red scale. 

"Let's test it, shall we?" Tony rubbed his hands together. "Kneel, Rogers."

The reaction was instantaneous, his entire body overcome with the powerful instinct to kneel. Steve attempted to resist… and his brain exploded immediately with an intense pain resembling daggers repeatedly thrust into his skull. Finally, he fell to his knees. Gasping for breath relief washed over him, coupled with sharp pleasure flooding his system at obeying the order.

"Oh, good. It worked.” Tony waved him up. “Enough groveling, darling. Get up."

Gritting his teeth, Steve stood, feeling another wash of pleasure at the obeyed order. He wasn’t sure what he hated more, the pain of resisting, or the pleasure he had no control over when he obeyed. "Stop the useless orders, -demon-."

"-I- get to decide what's useless. You-" Tony poked at Steve's broad chest, "Just get to decide how fast you want to follow them. By all means, take your time if you're a masochist. Now...” Tony moved away, taking a seat behind his desk and moving his fingers through the air to launch a three-dimensional calendar. “There's a Stark Company party I'd like you to attend tomorrow. The usual, revealing new weapons the humans can kill themselves with."

"Why do you need me there?"

Tony tsked, "Look. You're new at this so I'll let you get away with questioning me every half second. But if you do it in public? Won't be pretty. I’ll make sure everyone knows we have a contract. And that's going to make SHIELD look pretty shitty in the public eye.” Tony winked. “I’ll keep that little fact under wraps if you behave. Understood?"

Steve nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He’d made this choice willingly. As long as Stark kept up his end of the bargain, he’d allow the demon to have his way. It was only temporary... and Bucky was more important than his selfish pride. 

"And I need you there, Captain, because my dear, old uncle Obadiah Stane will be present. I'm pretty sure he knows."

"Knows what?" Steve dared to hope.

Tony shut down the calendar. Standing, he approached the angel and placed a hand on the small of Steve's back, possessive. "Where they're keeping the Winter Soldier."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the Grand Canyons were formed by Steve & the Red Skull duking it out. :) I don't have a beta so I apologize for any mistakes!
> 
> More characters will debut next chapter! So will a sex time scene.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets roped in, Tony questions his father's motives, and Steve is bad touched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: Tony playing with Steve isn't consensual in this chapter. Please avoid the limo scene if that isn't for you. Also, I don’t have a beta so if you see any issues let me know!

While working for Nick Fury was definitely an upgrade from his previous boss, the director brought a completely different set of problems to Peter Parker's life. Jameson's attitude at least had been predictable: moody with a chance of moody and a LOT of paperwork showers. It had been miserable, which actually the understatement of the century. 

Then his luck turned when Fury came to visit the office and asked for a cup of coffee. 

Peter was a WIZARD with the coffee machine. A literal Harry Potter of caffeine creation. Fury had taken one sip. Then his single eye fixed itself on Peter, and the man SMILED. It was tiny, sure. But you couldn't miss that miniscule quirking of lips and Jameson very nearly spat his espresso on the file they'd been looking over.

Before Peter realized what was happening, he'd gotten a swift promotion to Fury's secretary and was moved to the higher levels of SHIELD. It was busier, a lot busier. Peter hadn't been getting much sleep and some days he dragged himself around the office like the heavenly undead. After all, aside from their eternal life/rebirth cycle and abilities, angels were just like powered up humans. Still, he couldn't complain. Aside from the sheer amounts of expletives the man showered generously over his staff (were angels even allowed to do that?) Fury was a good boss when he wasn't riled up.

Today, unfortunately, wasn't a good day.

"PARKER."

"Yes, sir!" Peter zipped into the office and saluted, standing at attention as Fury paced behind the desk. The man's workspace was massive; all modern minimalism with glass windows looking out on the Washington, D.C., National Mall. The sun was just setting, the Washington Monument's white stone reflecting a warm shade of golden yellow. If the director wanted to focus on a specific area in the country, all he had to do was input a request to his computer and the windows instantly shifted to zoom in on the specified location. Peter could think of a dozen different ways that could be inappropriate... but he didn't think pointing out the peeping tom potential would endear him to his boss.

"Stop with the saluting, Parker." Fury snapped. "And shut the door. Those fuckers are late and I need you to-"

"Director." A voice interrupted Fury's tirade. Peter let out a small squeak as Captain America walked in, earning him a strange look from the solidly built angel. In his defense, it was hard NOT to make embarrassing noises when Heaven's poster boy himself walked into a room in full armor... with the mood Fury was in, he'd definitely need it. It was afternoon sky blue with touches of white on the edges, matching the Captain's wings, made of rare metals woven into fabric which (obscenely!) molded to the angel's chest. Peter was pretty sure looking that good in uniform was illegal. How was anyone supposed to get any work done around here? He'd been trying to figure out why it needed to be so tight in the ... well ... "bottom" area. He'd heard Coulson had artistic input in the armor and Peter had doubted his heterosexuality ever since... even if (technically) everyone in SHIELD was straight. Or at least were forced to be.

Nick Fury's jaw snapped shut as another angel walked into the office behind the Captain. Peter couldn't stifle a smile as Sam Wilson sauntered past him, slowing down a moment to ruffle the smaller angel's hair, "Hey, Pete."

Before he could reply the Director flapped his hands at him, which was Fury sign language for "shut the fucking door". Peter followed the order. Shutting it effectively sealed the office, cutting the space off and locking it into a private location in heaven. 

Fury took a deep breath. Then EXPLODED.

"CAPTAIN STEVE FUCKING ROGERS."

"Oh, man." Peter cupped his fingers over his ears but Fury's voice still beat down his eardrums, the words muffled but not muted. He could see Wilson copying the motion to his right. Captain, meanwhile, stood there. Calm, as the furious verbal storm beat down on him. 

"Know what you did? Disobeyed a DIRECT FUCKING ORDER. I told Wilson to get your ass over here A-S-A-P and it took you three hours?" The director slammed his palm on the table. "And don't get me started on you visiting Tony Stark's office. Are you TRYING to fall from heaven to follow Barnes? Because you're doing a pretty damn good job of it so far."

Captain put both hands up, placating. "Fury..."

"Don't try to calm me down! Do you know the situation we're in? Heaven's seen a 10% rise in popularity since you've come back and a 6% cut of rogue souls in New York alone! You think Pierce is going to just LET you pay social calls to demons? Much less THE demon in charge of weapons distribution in the nation?!" He poked Steve Rogers in the chest. "You think I'm terrifying? Wait til Pierce gets wind of this."

"Fury." Rogers soothed. "I need you to trust me. I'm not going to fall. We're just working on a quick project together. Shifting weapons distribution to the military instead of insurgents if it goes well. The public will approve. Won't be more than a couple of weeks. Tops." Peter glanced at Sam, catching a quick frown on the man's face before it was smoothly cleared away as the Captain continued. "I promise what we're working on is for the benefit of Heaven. No information will be compromised."

"Forgive me if I find that hard to believe, Rogers. Why didn't you consult me before going rogue?"

"I didn't want to spook the deal until I got affirmation from Tony. When have I let you down?"

"There's a first time for everything."

Sam coughed into his fist, catching everyone's attention. "I'll be stuck to him, director. Don't worry. I won't let the Captain get himself in deeper than he can handle." 

Fury paused, appeared to be mulling something over. Then turning his back to them he gazed out the window and added, "So will Parker."

"Excuse me?" Peter squeaked.

"I don't think that's necessary."

"Shut it, Rogers. Wilson is on your side, always has been. If I'm gonna let this project slide I need somebody I can trust keeping tabs on you idiots." Peter flushed. Fury trusted him? That was news... "Take it or I'm cutting off this fucked up friendship you've initiated with Stark right now."

"... all right." The Captain approached him, laying a large, warm hand on Peter's shoulder. "Welcome aboard, Parker."

"Don't you start trying to charm the kid over to your side, Rogers! I've got my eye on you." Fury pointed to his face, expression threatening.

"Wouldn't dream of it. But if Parker's going to be tailing me, we'll have to find him a suit."

"What. Why?" Peter, balked. He'd never worn a human suit in his life.

Sam shrugged. "We're going to a ball."

He whipped his head to stare at Wilson. "A ball? Like... the dancing kind?" 

Man, he was ELOQUENT tonight...

"The 319th Stark Weapons Expo after party." Steve turned to Fury. "You've wanted to get a mole in there for centuries. I'm can't share details, but Peter isn't held to the same stipulations. I'm sure he'll write you a full report on their release announcements."

Fury was obviously torn between the idea of getting valuable intel and having Rogers surrounded by not just demons, but demon nobility... the latter won out and Fury let out a heavy breath, shaking his head, "I'm not stupid. I know what this is really about, Rogers. The only reason I'm letting this slide is you've disobeyed orders once... and I know you'll do it again if I tried to stop you. So I might as well sanction it." His expression was severe. "Leave Pierce to me... and I hope you know what you're doing."

Peter silently agreed. After all, this probably he meant he had to DANCE. If he had to take that bullet it better be for a damn good reason.

\-------------------

The tailor quickly flipped the sign at the door from OPEN to CLOSED as Tony sauntered in, bodyguards posting themselves outside the store. He'd taken to frequenting this Manhattan tailoring shop since he'd caught sight of the man's designs on his rival, Justin Hammer. He'd bought the entire store an hour later and forbade the tailor, Remy Gulliard, from servicing any demon other than himself. The human picked fabric and stitched suits together in a way that screamed MONEY and SEX. Which happened to be two of Tony's favorite defining attributes.

"Master Stark! I didn't expect you today."

"Surprise, darling." Tony pulled out a black suit from a nearby rack, critically eyeing the ensemble. Hanging with it was a deep, ocean blue dress shirt, partnered with a dark tie to match. He tossed it to the ground. "Put this aside for now. I'll be grabbing a couple more."

The tailor picked it up, slinging the fabric over one arm. "Blue, Master Stark? Not your usual color."

"Very observant, Remy." Tony hummed. Going through a few more suits, he finally settled for the first he'd selected. It would make Steve's beautiful blues pop. For himself, he nabbed a reddish, brown suit off the rack, "Partner this up with a shirt and tie, will you? I want two of each suit." Slipping Remy Steve's measurements he pointed out, "I'll need both before 5 tonight."

Remy’s face turned white as he glanced up at the clock on the wall. It read 3:50. "Yes, sir..."

"You never let me down!" He clasped the human's shoulder and got a weak laugh in return. Letting himself out of the store, Tony made his way to the limo waiting at the curb. His chauffeur quickly pulled open a door for him and he slipped inside, quickly familiarizing himself with the mini-bar as the vehicle started its trek back to the Stark building. He settled back in to his seat, popping open a bottle of champagne. He drank straight from the bottle.

Yesterday had been fantastic. Captain America, Heaven's darling himself, had waltzed through his door practically BEGGING to make a deal. Tony wasn't easily caught by surprise, but Steve Rogers willing to sign his name away (on cursed paper even!) was definitely near the top of "Shit that Tony Stark Never Saw Coming." He knew Steve probably couldn't tell a lie with a straight face (the angel was so painfully honest it hurt his teeth), so they'd figured out an arrangement. Along with their standing contract, Tony would contemplate a deal with the US Army instead of his best insurgent customers in the Middle East while their deal was on. Had to make their relationship seem legitimate after all. 

One thing that continued to bother him, however, was that Steve admitted Howard Stark, the father he unabashedly and openly detested, had suggested the idea. Had Howard gone insane?

Tony’s father, however, had a track record of being unconventional. Unwilling to marry other demon nobility, he'd instead impregnated Tony's mother in the 1800's, a human woman. The Stark name already had weight in the higher ranks and the move was met with outrage by those who found out. The few demons who knew wanted her and her unborn child killed, but Howard used his heavy influence to bribe, threaten, and silence the three of them. Only a few were in the know about Anthony “Tony” Stark's birth and existence.

It was the only good thing Howard did for them.

Born half-demon and without a father, his mother had to hide him away to protect him from humans and demons alike. They settled on the outskirts of New Jersey in a cabin built by her brother, who was sympathetic to their cause. The man would often return with supplies and food. Then the Civil War hit... and his Uncle never returned. Desperate, they were forced to leave their home to forage for food, and Tony had to cloak himself to hide his wings, feigning disfigurement. They were often hungry, desperate, and his mother grew sick.

The day she died was the first time he met his father.

The demon blood in him was so powerful his humanity was barely detectable. Howard used that to his advantage. Aside from his father's partner Obadiah, the other two demons who'd known of him were gone (Howard claimed Obadiah had "taken care" of it), and the current demon council was unaware of his "taint." He quietly slipped in as the Stark heir and everyone assumed he'd come to be from one of Howard's many dalliances among demon women. For the next two hundred years, Stark father and son had a comfortable arrangement of hating each other, but managing to combine their natural talent for innovative invention to build weapons.

Then the angel Captain America, Steve Rogers had returned from the dead. Howard had known him from the Second Heavenly War... they had been from the same village. Steve had risen, but Howard had been twisted by the Red Skulled Demon and fallen, working to produce weapons in the subsequent battles. Neither Tony nor Obadiah had realized the extent of their pre-existing relationship until Howard had defected, consequently releasing Stark Company secrets to the angels and hampering their production for months.

And now... Howard sent his good friend, the angel he'd risen for: Captain America... into the hands of the son who had every reason to loath him? What was his father's motive? Howard was smart. There was a reason he sent Steve, and Tony was going to figure it out. He probably took Howard's bait, was being manipulated even now. But what demon could refuse the chance to torture heaven's darling? Especially with the hit Steve's return had on his company... 

He couldn't speculate until he had more information. Thankfully, the source was his date this evening.

Tony made a mental note to hire a personal photographer. Obadiah's face when he and Captain American waltzed in would probably be worth framing.

\----------------

The 319th Stark Weapons Expo was celebrated by upper class demons from all nine levels of hell and human leaders alike. The annual event traditionally announced newly released or upgraded weapons, and the after party was the start of the private bidding war between countries, terrorists, and private companies. Obadiah usually took charge. Tony never acquired a talent for dealing with humans, preferring to create not market his inventions. 

Steve knew all this because the demon had never stopped talking since they'd gotten into the limo.

Tony had (not surprisingly) late. Steve, Sam, and Peter had been ushered into private dressing rooms as soon as they arrived at Stark Tower. Stark had initially huffed when Peter was been announced as a required member of their entourage, but simply snapped, "Be on time," before hanging up. 

The suits had no wing holes, and none of them wanted to tear the expensive fabric. So they dissipated their wings, the appendages turning into pure energy and absorbing into their shoulder blades. After they were dressed (Sam in dark blue, Peter in red) , Natasha arrived to usher them into a waiting room, white couches scattered around a flat screen television. They mulled around for the hour and a half it took Tony to arrive, all the while blatantly avoiding eye contact with Natasha's cleavage. Peter seemed to have the hardest time of it... Then Tony finally showed up swept them all outside, directing Steve into a limo. This effectively separated him from Sam and Peter who were expected to ride with Romanov. Steve caught Sam's worried expression before Natasha pushed him inside their vehicle.

The location of the party was a little less than an hour away. Steve didn’t understand why they couldn't have just _flown_ there. Tony's look had been judging. "And ruin the suit? It's about appearances, Stevie. Late is fashionable. Plus..." He'd opened the mini-bar fridge, "The alcohol here makes the long drive worth it. Demon grade."

Now they were each on their third glass. Steve could feel the alcohol pooling in his stomach, rising warm, up his neck and flushing his cheeks. Tony moved to fill his empty glass and Steve held up a hand to stop him, "I think I've had enough."

"Oh, darling. Not enough for the party we're headed." Tony ignored his request and made to pour. Steve placed his hand over the rim, adamant.

"I'm quite sure I've had enough."

Something flashed in Tony's eyes. Something dark, vicious, and not at all pleased at being told no. Steve was certain the demon wasn't accustomed to being refused, but he wanted a clear head on his shoulders when surrounded by upper class demons. If nobility was involved, he was certain he'd run into old enemies from the Second Heavenly War. While he and Tony had a deal, he wasn't sure Stark would be willing to involve himself when it came to trading blows.

"Well..." Tony's voice was notably lower. Like a large cat, almost rumbling. "I had this bottle made specifically for you. If you're not going to drink it..." Tony moved closer, body curving over him. "Then we'll have to find some other use."

Tilting the bottle, Tony spilled the bubbly liquid on the Steve's lap. 

"Stark! What are you-?" Steve moved to stand, but Tony shoved him roughly back down on the wet seat. Steve felt hot anger cloud his mind. "How do you expect me to show up to your party with a move like that? Are you insane?" 

Tony ignored him, pouring the last of the bottle into his mouth. Then his arm snapped out, snatching the front of Steve's shirt, yanking the angel forward. Expecting a strike, Steve clenched his fists. Instead of a punch, the demon's lips pressed against his, demanding, Tony's tongue sliding out to nudge his mouth open. In shock, Steve nearly choked on the alcohol Tony spat into his mouth. The demon's hand shifted from his shirt to rub at his throat and Steve instinctively swallowed, feeling something small and hard go down with the drink... a pill?

Coughing, he shoved Tony away. "What... what did you give me?"

"Oh, just a little something to help you relax." Tony slid into a seat further down the limo, stretching his arms. "You're so wound up. How are we supposed to have any fun?" 

Steve moved to stand, demand answers, but suddenly the world seemed to dim, shake, and he couldn't keep his balance. Falling to his knees in front of the demon, he felt Tony's fingers comb through his hair, misleadingly gently, until they tightened and yanked his head back. "You should have just behaved, Captain. We have a deal. As far as I remember, the stipulation was that I get to do what I want with you." Tony pulled him closer, between his legs so that their chests were almost flush. "I'm helping you find your friend. You..." The demon kissed his ear, tongue darting out to taste. "Are going to show me a good time."

The cloudy haze was spreading behind his forehead, thoughts drowned in the heavy weight of the drug. Tony turned Steve around by his shoulder, shoving the angel down on the floor. Steve’s cheek slammed on the blood-red, carpeted floor, ass in the air. The angel felt a stab of embarrassment, then regret. He expected this... but expectation didn't help with the reality of the situation. What was he thinking... agreeing to a contract with Stark?

Steve fought for calm. This was only his physical body. Tony couldn't forcibly take his grace. Terrible things were done in wars, and this was no different from the wounds demons had inflicted on him in fights. This was just another type of battle, one he was unfortunately unfamiliar with. But it was all for Bucky... there was no going back. Only the terrible path forward to finding his friend.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." Tony hummed from his seat, looking down on the angel as he did quick work of taking off Steve’s belt. "You won't fall from grace with a little sex. SHIELD is _archaic_ with their rule of celibacy. No wonder you're all miserable." Steve attempted to push himself back up and Tony tsk'd, yanking off his tie to bind the angel's wrists. "You're more work than I expected. More fun, of course. But so much fucking work."

"Stark..."

"Just Tony, Cap. We're past the point of last names."

"Tony. Stop."

"Rude! Magic word, Stevie."

" _Please._ "

Tony answered by yanking Steve's pants down. Placing a hand on the angel's buttocks, he parted the cheeks, thumbs rubbing in soothing circles. "Darling, trust me. Pleasing is _exactly_ what I intend to do." 

The first finger pushed in dry, sliding in to the last knuckle. Steve clenched his jaw as it pulled back out. Then two fingers, shoved in so harshly Steve slid a few inches forward. He let out a pained hiss. The drug Tony had slipped him pulsed in full force. His skin buzzed, sensitive, vision hazy at the edges and occasionally bursting with small flashes of light. His mind felt cut off from the rest of his body, reactions slower. Shutting his eyes, Steve willed the torture to end. Three fingers, insistent, and when Tony nudged them deeper the digits curved, hitting a spot that tore a desperate sound from Steve's throat. Pleasure burst from inside him, a hot wave that pulsed through his veins, and he instinctively pushed back for more contact.

Tony's chuckle was low, deep with desire and the demon placed a kiss on the small of his back. "This is the first time anybody's penetrated you? Other than a sword of course. It’s too bad we don’t have much time to play." A whisper. “I’d fuck you so hard, so good, Captain. I'd make you _beg_.” 

Steve couldn't pull himself together enough to reply, to deny that Tony could possible make him beg. All he could manage were small noises as Tony's fingers thrust in, out, in. Hitting that spot over and over as he rode each wave of bliss. Tony grabbed his bound wrists to yank him up to an upright kneeling position. Steve felt the demon's arm snake around his waist, calloused fingers pinching the head of his cock as the fingers shoved back in.

Steve came. Tony's fingers rubbing insistently against his prostate, pleasure stabbing straight into his dick as the demon’s other hand pumped him dry into the carpet. Vision bled to red, ears ringing as Steve felt the buzz of his orgasm run through his body in currents, gradually softening to waves as the demon bit his neck. Possessive. Leaving a mark as he sucked, nibbled, kissed the skin as Steve's spasms died down.

"Well... that was fast." Tony gave the mark he made one last lick, letting Steve fall to the carpeted floor. He unbound the angel’s wrists. "Not that I expected any less, Captain Virgin." He thought aloud. "Make a note, the drug works better on angels than expected. "

"Stark..." Steve pushed himself up. Tony tilted his head and waited as he struggle to form the words. "How long… does it last?"

"Peaks for the first hour. By the time we get to the party it should be more subtle. Still present in your system, but subtle." Tony reached off to the side and threw the extra suit he'd ordered by Steve's feet. "Knew this would come in handy. Now change, Cap. ETA is 15 minutes."

Steve dressed himself in silence. For once, Tony left him to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I feel so horrible for bullying Steve in this fic... but things will get better for him eventually, I promise. 
> 
> [Tony's Suit](http://media.nowfashion.com/uploads/shows/salvatore-ferragamo/2012/milan/fall-winter/menswear/2012-01-15/1083/public/3733//photos/2012-01-15-13-06-31-salvatore-ferragamo-6859.jpg)
> 
> [Steve's Suit](http://i.imgur.com/S1f4e.jpg)
> 
> [Sam's Suit](http://thebestfashionblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Salvatore-Ferragamo-Fall-Winter-2012-2013-37-600x899.jpg)
> 
> [Peter's Suit](http://wearhou.se/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/00180fullscreen.jpg)
> 
> [Natasha's Dress](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2010/06/18/article-1287579-0A16D8F1000005DC-556_468x797.jpg)


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